The Gladers
by NitrotheDog
Summary: "So what was it like before I got here?" Thomas asked, his brown eyes glittering with curiousity. Newt rolled in his bed, scowl set in place. "Ain't you tired, yet?" Thomas shook his head, earning sigh and glare from the older boy. "I'll tell you, but you gotta be silent during the whole thing. No interupting, good that?" "Good that.."
1. Preface

**Dear readers,**

**The story's title has changed from The Glue to The Gladers. I gain nothing from this besides fandom feels, friends and possibly mad feedback..I'm known to go back and re-edit a few things here and there so check from time to time. I'll be making my stories longer for everyone's enjoyment. Comments are cookies that I desprately crave. Happy readings.**

**NitroTheDog**

When they awoke, they were stunned to find one another without a single recollection of who they are. They were large in numbers and couldn't come up with an explantion as to how they got there, they all could recall one thing though. Their names.

Newt...

Alby...

Minho...

Winston...

Zart...

and a couple other odd ball names.

Things just didn't add up and within a few minutes they were at each other's throat, unfound accusations were hurled at one another, fists were thrown and somewhere along the line someone ended up with a black eye or a broken nose. A dark skinned male was the one who finally put an end to all the pointless fighting, two people backed him up and made the others see to reason as to why anyone would do this. As far as they all knew—not one single person—knew where they are or who had put them into this strange place. Whoever had sent them here had thought this plan out thoroughly—for supplies evened out between each teen. Fear was a common emotion throughout the following weeks but slowly over time they banded together and did their very best to survive.

Everywhere they looked they were surrounded by white concrete walls that towered at least a hundred feet tall and a hundred feet wide, unruly amounts of ivy that never stopped growing and small silver beetles that flickered in and out of sight. Within a month they started to call them the Creators, the ones that had sent them there, and did their very best to escape their new hell. Alby, whom everyone silently deemed their leader, suggested a group meeting: now called a Gathering for some odd reason. Like clockwork the concrete walls slid open to reveal an open space, every inch of it filled with passages and tunnels that led no where. But as Minho ventured farther out into it he discovered that it changed every night, that there must be some hidden code behind it all. He was the first to suggest Runners. As they settled somewhat into their terrible home they decided to give it a name. The Glade they had all decided.

In their own way they formed their own society and rules.

Keepers.

Gladers

The Maze. (Now a forbidden place unless you were a runner...)

And even their own new way of swearing and speaking.

Shuck, klunk, shank and good that. It all seemed silly at first but it grew on them. A boy named Davis was the first to be stung, he was the first to die. At that time the Creators hadn't invented or supplied them with the serum. They all had to watch as the boy wasted away into a snarling and spitting monster, so unlike the sweet boy they all knew. They all helped to dig his grave, establishing their one and only graveyard. Minho christened it with the name Deadhead(s).

Hopefully, they would find a way out of here soon, lest they all become deadheads like their fellow Glader. It was a little breath-taking at how fast they came together after they were done hurting one another, as if almost on instinct they all fell into their designated roles. Zart turned out be an incrediable gardner and was pruning and watering and weeding their only garden like he's done it all his life. Within two weeks they had fresh vegetables and tangy fruit to eat, with their stomachs a little fuller they grew more at ease. Minho had the curiousity of that of a puppy and was always springing new and terrible ideas, earning rolled eyes and loud laughs from his friends: Alby and Newt. It was rare that Alby took time to enjoy himself, he was always busy with the Gladers.

Newt had come to realize that as a leader there came penalties; you were the main source of hate and admiration. If there was problem, it was Alby's fault. If someone got hurt doing something stupid, it was Alby's fault. Everything that went wrong was Alby's fault. Newt often smiled whenever he heard someone complain of Alby, in a way he was like the President. He was an icon. Presidents needed to get both parties to agree before moving forward with something. He usually consulted with the Keepers, so in reality, it was all of their faults.

Newt ran down the long passages through the maze, sweat beading on his brow and his breath jagged and uneven. For now this was his life, entering the Maze and looking for an exit. He could see others in the distance, their faces grim and angry. The passage ended in about twenty feet, the rough, coarse ground stopping at the very edge. He looked over his feet and felt the familiar fear of heights creep up his body. The Cliff they had called it. Its depths never ending and darker than the color black, if that was possible. The sight alone gave the teens discomfort, something that was all too common within the Glade.

"We're done man, might as well jump off this and end it." One of the teens said, he was slouched against the Maze's wall. His name was Stephen. A depressing boy that spread the terrible feeling where ever he went. Newt's nose scrunched up at that, a fire burning through his veins.

"What's wrong with you? You can't bloody give up because of one thing!" Newt spat, not caring about the angry glares sent his way.

"Can't you see? We're dead. Dead shucking shanks!"

Newt highly disagreed, ignoring Stephen's outbursts from now on, Newt wasn't a shank.

He was a Glader, simple as that. He wouldn't die so easily within these walls. He rather die outside them then be trapped in here forever.

**I hope you enjoyed that! Follow me on Instagram: :) **


	2. Chapter 1

**Hello**, **everyone! I'll be** **keeping** **a** **minimum** **of** **1k–3k** **for each** **chapter**.

I woke up at the early crack of dawn and listened to the peaceful snoring of every Glader. I knew they would be awoken soon, sometimes it didn't feel right disturbing the only peace they had in this place. Everyone had taken Davis's death very badly, it seriously messed up the younger Gladers. Not a single person had eaten last night's dinner, not that I blame them. Davis had turned into a fairy tale monster, gone was the sweet and gentle teenager that everyone liked. Alby, Minho and Winston had thrown him into the rickety old cells near the wall's entrance when he started to attack innocent Gladers.

I must have been so deep in my thoughts that I didn't feel Minho's greeting; which was a gentle kick to the thigh the first time and a full blown kick the next. I winced in pain and rubbed at my thigh as I sent the asian boy a playful but angry glare. He had a smug face today, that shuck was always laughing or smiling about something. What I would give for his happy moods..

"Wakey wakey, Newt. We got a klunk maze to discover." I smiled, Minho sounded so strange saying The Glade's new way of speaking. It took to some and others were left with strange words in their mouth. I found myself saying the words without a second thought, like I had used them before and was just saying them out of habit. I wiggled out of the sleeping bag I was wedged in and stood up, my mouth was dry and in desperate need of a toothbrush; but I followed Minho out into the open Glade to get our daily ration from Alby. He handed us two apples, a medium size jug of water and and a package of dried beef strips. We were running low on food, I knew sometime soon someone needed to kill one of the penned in animals to make food later for everyone. I'm glad I'm not that person to do it. We still have zero information regarding The Creators, all we had were theories so far. From time to time you could see the glimmer of a silver beetle with blood red letters written on the back, Wicked it had read. We thought they were warnings from The Creators but we ruled that out quickly. The beetles appeared at random and we never could find out what we did wrong, this whole place was a warning all on its own. I ran a shaky hand through my hair and let out a contented sigh, the apple tasted like heaven to my taste buds. Minho gave me a two fingered salute with an apple in his mouth and took off into The Maze.

I threw the apple core out into The Maze as I headed out. I heard the sounds of people talking, the Gladers would be waking up soon. I slipped into my running shoes and exhaled deeply as I ventured out into the ivy covered passages. I used to think it was pointless—sometimes I still do—what was the point of waking up when it was clear we wouldn't find anything? It was a waste of bloody time.

As I passed through familiar passages I began to think how many months have passed since we've been here. If I was correct today marked the third month. Three months and still had no answers, it was amazing that none of the Gladers had lost their minds yet. I shook my head free of the bothersome thoughts and headed deeper into The Maze.

Within two hours of my departure to The Maze I heard the familiar sound of clicking and whirling. On instinct I cowered against a passage wall and hid behind the ivy as the noise came closer.

_Click, click. Click, click_. .

_Whirrrrrrrllll_. _Whirrrrrrrllll_.

I bowed my head in fear and drew my knees to my chest, I listened silently as it passed through. I don't know if it was a sudden burst of courage or stupidity that passed in me, but I opened my eyes to see it. Most of thick ivy hid its appearance but I could see it all the same. Its body still glistening from an unknown substance, its mechanical device-like arms snapping and closing shut and its disgusting trail—almost see through slime—it left in its wake. All of it made me sick. I clasped my hands around my mouth as I felt my stomach heave, I bit down on my tongue. Forcing my body to be occupied by something else besides my weak stomach. The feeling of nausea passed just like the monster. I didn't breathe normally until hours later, even after it left. There was always the fear that it would return soon. But from trial and error, it proved to be an actually dumb creature.

On the way back to The Glade I heard a faint distant sound: like that of sirens. Adrenaline made my body sprint back home. Worry on the corners of my mind. I almost thought it was deserted if not for the large group of teens near the very back of The Glade. They were all huddled in a tight circle, at first I thought it was another fight breaking out. But as I got closer, a new hole stood in the very center of the group. A large metal lift could be seen rising slowly. This has never happened before and the simple act filled me with dread. I backed up to one of the very few trees in The Glade and watched. A loud boom could be heard when the lift finally stopped. Alby looked over the lift and kicked it, a solemn expression on his face.

"What's that! What's that noise? Can anyone hear me in this shuck thing?"

My eyes widened in understanding, a person was inside the metal box. There was a mad scramble to open it, Zart found an opening on the side. He and Alby hefted it open, revealing the newcomer inside. A dirty face was illuminated by sunlight. He was of a dark skin tone and had a bushy beard. Was this actually a teenager and not a grown up?

"You alright down there?" One of the Gladers called down. I laughed as the newcomer rolled his eyes.

"No. I'm just peachy in this dark... whatever this is. Seriously though, some help please?"

Alby was broken out of his trance and started to bark orders to the Gladers, many of them spread out in search of something to use as rope. The box was far too deep to actually pull the kid out. I must of lost myself again in my thoughts for the next thing I know is Minho is slapping the shuck out of my arm.

"What's bloody wrong with you?" I asked with a frown, my bicep would be sporting a bruise tomorrow.

"I've called your name like seven times, I should be the one asking what's wrong with you. Why's everyone over there? Did someone get in a fight again?" Minho asked, curiosity etched into his face.

I shook my head and launched into a brief explanation of what happened, Minho let out a low whistle when I finally finished.

"Man, I really question Alby's shuck head sometimes. Why don't we use some ivy as rope?"

That actually surprised me, Minho was usaully the one bringing up stupid ideas or saying stupid things. He actually seemed smart for once. We headed towards Alby with Minho's idea in mind. Long story short we made a pretty crappy looking rope but it held, the kid hung on to it as we pulled him out. He wore dirty clothes and was covered in head to toe in dirt, I can't fathom why he was so filthy. Maybe the Creators snatched up street rats and placed them here.

The guy was pretty overwhelmed when he took in the Glade, his sarcastic ways quickly deflated. He looked pale and sickly.

It was Alby who finally broke the silence. It was the same question we had asked one another frequently.

"What's your name?"

* * *

"Frypan..." The newcomer responded, Minho burst out into loud guffaws and I felt the corners of my mouth twitch. Was the new guy serious? But from the looks of it, he was. A grumpy look took place on his face, but red coloring appeared on his cheeks. I heard him mumble quietly about how he hated his name and that this nickname suited him better. He was subjected to a few questions from the Gladers before he escaped to the homestead. He went from normal to depressing in a matter of minutes. I guess it was natural for him to feel this way. It wasn't so different from when we arrived here. I remember the feelings all to well.

We had felt so helpless and hopeless before Alby took the reins and made us into a group. A few curious Gladers were still by the metal box and became startled when it started to descend back down below. I could hear the horrible screech, like nails on a chalk board. Minho let out a dramatic sigh and leaned against the tree's rough bark, a strange look on his face.

"Nothing bothers me anymore." I heard him murmur, truthfully I felt that wasn't true. How could he say that when it was clearly still the beginning of terrible things? He should count every one of his lucky stars that these walls protected us at night. His snarky attitude was getting on my nerves. I walked over to Alby, questions already falling out of my mouth—he wordlessly held out his hand for my silence. I rolled my eyes as Alby waited for the other Gladers to leave before talking with me, I didn't agree with this whole secrecy thing. It was bad enough that we all turned on one another within a heartbeat, keeping secrets just made things worse in my opinion.

"So what do you think?" I asked softly, Alby just shook his head tiredly as if that alone answered my question.

"I have no idea, maybe The Creators left someone behind or introduced another animal to the slaughterhouse." I tensed up at that and groaned, Alby was always morbid about something. I guess it was his way with dealing with all of this.

He gave me one of his rare smiles as I playfully smacked the back of his neck, earning a soft laugh from the other boy. It wasn't often that Alby became so gentle. Being a leader really took the fun out of things. Sometimes I thought of us in groups, that us—Alby, Minho and me—were the head honchos. Which in a way we were. Whenever there was a problem or a concern everyone came to us, it seemed kind of strange to think of it in that way but that's just how things were around here.

"I think I found a way out of here." Alby said suddenly, all business-like once again.

"How's that?" I asked, he seemed too calm. I had a feeling I wouldn't like this idea one bit. He wordlessly pointed to the new hole next us, it was dark and empty. Alby crouched down on his hands and knees and hurled a rock into the dark depths. We heard it clatter and clutter on the way down, but not once did we hear it hit the bottom.

"Alby, this is shuckiest idea I've ever heard." I said, the thought of going down into a deep dark hole terrified me. Who in klunk's name knew what was down there?

"I know, Newt. But look at all the other options we have." Alby said, his eyes roamed over the makeshift ropes that the Gladers had left behind. He held them up with a new found interest.

"We'll climb down it."

* * *

We held a gathering that night and discussed Alby's plan with the other Keepers. Half of them agreed to it while others didn't. Eventually they started to take the Glader's votes the second time around, a kid named Nick finally broke the stalemate.

Alby held up the last vote and declared that the plan would be in effect by tomorrow. I closed my eyes in horror. Gladers erupted into loud arguments as to who would be the first to enter the dark depths. Nick, the skinny brown haired shank, actually volunteered to go. I couldn't imagine why he wanted to go. There wasn't anything special about him, he was quiet and reserved and remained by himself most of the time. He couldn't honestly gain anything from this besides a terrible injury or death...

"I just don't get why he wants to go. Why would anyone want to go down that bloody hole?" I asked later that night, Alby and Minho laid beside me in dusty sleeping bags. It smelled of camp fire and musk. I felt a hard jab into the left side of my rib cage from Alby and hissed in pain.

"Slim it, shank. If the boy wants to do it he's going to do it. I don't fancy going down there either but someone has to."

Minho snorted and rolled over to face me, his eyes drooping from tiredness.

"Alby, did you just seriously say fancy? I never took you for an old shank." Alby then reached over me to punch Minho's head, eventually it ended up with the two wrestling and with me stuck in the middle. After getting jabbed in the eye one time too many, I forced them to separate and slept by myself in a secluded corner. I had nightmares involving the box hole. The giant slug creatures had made a spiderweb in it and caught Alby and Nick, they tortured slowly before being drained of their blood. I awoke the next morning sticky with sweat and trembling from the aftermath of my terrible nightmare.

Maybe Alby and Minho sensed my discomfort about it for they didn't engage me in any conversations about the plan. I lined up next to the other Gladers and watched as Alby tied the makeshift rope around Nick's torso, the kid's face was pale but had a certain look of determination. I silently prayed that everything went well today. Alby threw the rope towards us and ordered that we all hold on to it as they lowered Nick down. Every so often I could hear Nick calling up to Alby, twenty minutes passed before I heard the swish of a blade in the air and the blood curdling scream of Nick. The Gladers hefted the boy back up as quickly as we could, I couldn't help but notice that he wasn't as heavy as he use to be.

I heard Alby swore and a few screams from other Gladers as Nick came back up. I struggled to make it to the front to see what happened, I regretted it as soon as I saw it. Nick's body was cut cleanly in half, his eyes wide open and glassy. I couldn't look at the rest of him, I just couldn't.

I ran away as far as I could and threw up even though there was nothing to throw up. Why hadn't anyone listened to me? I knew that kid would end up hurt and now he's dead. I was vaguely aware of the tears that cascaded down my cheeks, I rubbed furiously at my eyes as I heard someone approaching.

"You alright?" It was Minho.

I gave out a dry laugh.

"Do I bloody look alright, Minho? We just saw half of a shank back there.."

"Don't act like this, Newt... Your the calm one." Minho whispered, I looked up at him and was surprised to find him worried. About me.

"Well how is one suppose to act when they see half of a body?" I snapped, I felt guilty for it. Minho was my friend and taking my anger out on him wasn't helping anything. For once Minho was silent and that worried me. Minho was never quiet.

"I don't know, but help us bury him. He needs to be a reminder as to why we can't leave down the box hole."

For once I actually agreed with his plans, if there was chance that we all died while others came; they needed to know what awaited them.

* * *

We scrounged the Glade in search of a see through glass or plastic to make the cover of Nick's casket. People needed to see with their own eyes to what happens to those that travel down the Box Hole. Minho finally found our needed material near the homestead and headed to one of the many small sheds, where most of the valuable items were stored. The items were usually stuff along the lines of weapons and tools. They had the small luxury of owning a few powered tools. Minho produced a shiny silver key from his pocket and unlocked the rickety door, my nose wrinkled at the strong smell of rust and dust. It was awfully overwhelming in a enclosed space. Minho doubled over and hefted a small chest open, the tools sat in a dust and old cobwebs. He held a drill out to me silently as he placed the chest in its former place. He stood up rather suddenly and let out a whoop of enjoyment.

He held up a hammer and a few bent nails. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Hey don't be all snooty, shank. Nails are a always must, no matter what condition they're in."

He had a point, we were headed to the Deadheads when I noticed Alby out of the corner of my eye. He stood in front of us with a sullen expression, my lips were pursed tightly as I looked over our so called leader. Anger burned in the pit of my stomach, but deep inside I knew Alby couldn't really be blamed for Nick's death. Nobody could've possibly stop this. I just wished he would listen to me for once before putting his terrible ideas into effect. He stood silently in front of us, his lips were a tight line. Alby rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, he only ever did that when he was nervous. The familiar feeling of worry quickly came back to me.

"I'll make this simple, okay? I'm considering on dumping this klunk title of leader soon," He held out a hand for Minho's and my silence as he kept talking.

"None of these shuck shanks are fit to be leader. I couldn't think of another person more suited to it than you two."

Alby's deep brown eyes searched our faces for any look of outrage. I was going to respond but Minho beat me in record time.

"So what're you saying, Alby? That'll you'll pick one of us?" He nodded and Minho let out a rather loud and rude laugh. Sometimes I wonder what went on in Alby's shuck head sometimes, sure Minho and I had our heads on straight and everything, but was he serious? Minho had a deadly temper and I hated ordering people about. I help not command, it just wasn't my kind of show. I'm sure Minho would be a great leader, but with his compelling urge to argue with every living thing ruled him was ruled out rather quickly.

"Alby, not sure if we're on the same page here but I'm not one for leadin' people and stuff. That'll be dear old Newt's job." He patted my shoulder and gave a sugary false smile. I rolled my eyes, leave it to Minho to throw me under the bus. I wasn't cut out for it either. I shook my head and held out my hands. I just couldn't be responsible for any future kid's death, the guilt alone would kill me.

"Alby, I can't possibly do this... Let's talk about this later or something. Let's just focus on making Nick's bloody grave."

Alby nodded grimly, his eyes flickering up to the power drill Minho held. "Need help?' He asked, Minho let loose a two thousand watt smile and thrust the tools into Alby's hand. He basically deflected Alby's red hot glare. "Let's get cracking, Alby."

* * *

It took us over four hours to make Nick's see through casket, by the end of it sweat clung to us like a second skin. Gladers pitched in and helped until they realized what we were doing. Looks of disgust were thrown at us and at the grave. They shook their heads and backed away, suddenly grossed out. Normally I would've been the one shaking my head but this needed to be done. I did however disappear when Nick's body made a reappearance. I don't think my stomach could handle seeing him for a second time. I was leaning against one of the many trees in the Deadheads and listened to the sound of Gladers working. I usually never try to remember, the pain of unable to recall a single memory was well painful. Everything remained blank as usual. I don't know how it's physically possible to remove one's memories, but they pulled it off fantastically. All I ever saw were inky blotched faces, like they had been drawn in ink and the artist had carelessly smeared the picture. I couldn't remember a shuck thing.

In a way this felt like a bad horror movie with me as an upcoming victim. My eyes flew open as something nudged against my bare foot, I blinked and looked upward at the newest Glader. He held out a cup of water to me, concern written in every pore of his face. "You alright? You look a lil pale." I took the cup gratefully and drank the water in one gulp. I wasn't aware of the gnawing pain of hunger until now.

"Yeah, we're just... Just a bit busy."

"I imagine so. Burying someone takes the joy out of people."

I sat there for a minute, trying to figure out what the new kid wanted. He should be off somewhere bawling his eyes out. "What'd ya want? I can tell." I said with a stern glare.

He looked a bit taken back by my straight forwardness, his hands came up to his scalp and tangled themselves within his dark curls.

"I just wanted some answers.. I feel like klunk and no one's telling me a single thing. I want to help if I can." I nodded understandably, everyone needed a place within the Glade to fit.

"Well what're you good at? Tell me and I'll talk to Alby for you."

"I'm a mean cook in kitchen, I can always help in..."

After Frypan's long and dull explanation of his beloved passion, I finally began to see reason in his idea. We did need someone in charge of provisions and cooking. Frypan seemed like a regular old pro, almost like a chef if you asked me.

Today we lost a Glader and gained a chef, Alby was defiantly going to kill me later..


	3. Chapter 2

I was right about something at least, Alby was none to pleased about Frypan showing up in the kitchen cooking like no tomorrow. I just didn't understand why he was so angry about it. Frypan was an amazing cook and the Gladers flocked to him. The tastier of foods the better of moods.

"Alby, come on. Think about it. It's a good idea!" I said, almost pleading with the other male. He had crossed his arms and jutted his chin out at me, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"It's a terrible idea, Newt. Do you honestly think that this new shank can be trusted around food? Who's to say he won't eat it all?"

"Alby, need I remind you about your terrible idea? Does the bloody _Box Hole_ ring any bells?"

I almost felt guilty about the hurt look that passed over his face, but it came and went. He pulled me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me behind the homestead, I felt scared of Alby in that moment. He slammed his hand against the rough worn wood and actually let out a growl, frustration painting its way across his handsome features.

"You can't just make desicions like that, Newt. You have to come to me and-

"But I thought you were giving up. Isn't that what you wanted?" I snapped, I felt like a cornered animal. How dare Alby get mad at me, at least Frypan wasn't meeting his untimely demise in the kitchen. Alby's eyes squinted, perhaps looking for a joke hidden in my words.

"Thought you didn't want to be the leader.."

"I..I don't, Alby. I just want to help you. Let me be the one that helps you through your dumb ideas." I said softly, my shoulders slumping. The tension sucked out of me with those words.

"God, you're just as stubborn and annoying as Minho!" Alby hands clenched and unclenched in anger, his resolve slowly fading away by each passing minute. He walked away from me, but stopped shortly a loud groan issuing from him.

"Fine, help me. But don't go around doing stupid things, Newt." His voice was gentle and his eyes held a certain tiredness. He walked further into the Glade, barking orders at passing Gladers. I smiled, for once things were going my way…The problem regarding our imprisonment for once was forgotten in hopes of other things. It felt nice to worry about other things, everything was so much simpler without having to think of the evils within the Glade.

* * *

A week passes by, bringing another new Glader by the means of the Box Hole. This one is as skinny as rail and tall as an oak tree. He towers almost over everyone—Frypan is the one that gets the whole greenie business going. Every week we received a new Glader and it felt like a ritual to tease them and call them Greenie until the next Glader comes along. A few of the kids still try and mess with the Box Hole, which earns them a loud and angry lecture from Alby. The poor kids almost klunked themselves as soon as they were caught, a part of me couldn't help but think they deserved it.

It's like they learned nothing from Nick being sliced in half.. Months, weeks, days, hours and minutes tick by so fast. The Gladers increased by a large number, the Creators sent more stuff to us and we still have no real idea of where the exit is in this place. My hair's getting a bit long and I can feel it brushing against the back of my neck.

I sometimes find myself in a slump, unable to feel happy or join in on any activities lately. Maybe no there was no way out. Maybe the Creators have left us to die... Things never added up in this place, I feel a shadow pass over me from my spot on the ground.

"Newt, you okay?" I heard Minho ask, his usual harsh tone softened.

"I'm shucking good, man." I said stiffly, couldn't I be left in peace for once?

"Don't give me that klunk. You're not okay. You're acting like a weirdo, Newt. Even Alby's getting worried. He's too busy to be worried. Sounds like an upcoming apocalypse." I snorted at the mere idea of it, an apocalypse... Where did he get these ideas from?

"Look, I've just been tired is all. I just want some peace. Can I have that?" I said, Minho looked like he wanted to argue, maybe even punch me but he just stormed away like he was the one upset. My eyelids drooped, tiredness taking over my body; shutting it down. I exhaled as blackness enveloped me.

The beginning of my dreams are always the same, I'm in chair talking to a faceless person. They're saying my name and talking about how much they depended on me. I wanted to scream, to laugh, to do something. How could anyone depend on me? I've been so useless.

_"You're one of main factors, Newton."_ They said, they would go on and on about factors, tests and The Glade. Everything came back to The Glade. I couldn't help but love it and hate it. It was my home but also my prison. Even in my dreams I had no peace, it was rare I had no dreams and just floated in the dark abyss.

_"I know I am,"_ my dream self would say.

_"Anything for-"_ The rest of the conversation was blurred out, muffled. Like someone was speaking through a glass cup. I wanted to call them memories but what kind of memory would do this? Why would there be things missing from a whole memory if I had been there? I came to conclusion that it is was nothing but a dream after all.

* * *

I started to feel a little better, I wasn't so down in the slumps today. Another runner had gotten stung by a Griever, he had thrashed around in his room for days on end before someone finally came up with a way to heal him. The Creators have started to send things a long time ago, even the a strange unknown liquid with a pack of clean needles. Alby had been reluctant at first to use them, but what choice did he have? Let the shank squirm to death or possibly kill him because of the unknown chemicals.. We didn't have room for other options.

Alby gave me a desperate sort of look as he filled the needle with the mysterious liquid, his face grave as he pushed the plunger down. The Glader still thrashed around, in his sleep. Crying out into his nightmares. He became a pale green, a symptom that has never appeared before. Minho left shortly after to make a wooden grave marker. You can imagine the awe and surprise on everyone's faces when the small Glader made it safely though the night. We had a celebrated for two whole days, Frypan cooked up a storm while Alby gave everyone a much needed break. For the first ever, we felt like we could make it. That we could make it out of the Maze. But soon after the thought of it, it was stupid. The Creators could kill us without a moment's notice. It was pointless thinking like this. Our lives started to pass by quickly, and before I even know it—it's day 366.

We've gained 22 new Gladers, only 5 of which have joined the Deadheads. Which I couldn't help but feel like that was an improvement. There's no longer room in the Homestead, so people are propped up under trees. It's nice to lay out in the open Glade and breathe in the fresh air. It was a lot better than the Homestead's dusty stale air. It's an almost perfect life. Almost being the keyword.

* * *

I woke up to loud and shrill screams, I struggled with my blankets to get up. Tweny or thirty feet away, two Gladers are engaged in a brutal battle of fists and legs. Abe and G I vaguely recall. G slashed forward with a cooking knife from Frypan's kitchen and manages to the nick the other boy. It's chaos as soon Alby and Minho take charge. Minho's fists clocked against G's teeth, cracking and chipping the ivory white teeth, making them stained with frothy pink blood. Alby's large hands are wrapped around the silver blade, his face contorted in pain as the cold metal digs into his flesh. He wrenched it away from the crazed Glader, disbelief flashing in his brown eyes.

"ARE YOU SHUCKING CRAZY? I'LL THROWN YOUR DAMN ASS OFF THE CLIFF!" Alby's roar of anger echoed throughout the Glade, making it sound louder and longer than it really was. I don't think I can honestly say what I felt about the whole thing. Alby subdued the two, talking in a terse tone about a Banishment. I didn't want a Banishment but seven Keepers out of ten did. G was left to rot in a rickety tin of a jail cell until night fall. He would be left to the Grievers tonight. The thought of those mechanical beasts made me break out into shivers. It was all wrong. I remember fighting with Alby about it, the argument ended when his open palm made contact with my left cheek. My eyes were wide as I looked at him. My skin was tingling and red.

"This has to happen, Newt. We can't let things get out of control, understand?" He said. Then he walked away from me, as if nothing had happened.

I was hurting, from physical and emotional pain. It hurt that Alby threw away my concerns about the whole thing away, I felt betrayed in a way. I remember feeling so upset when Minho took Alby's side. I didn't talk to them again until three long days have passed.

Things were still shaky after the Banishment, kids talked less and started to shrivel up. I think secretly they were afraid of Alby, that they would be the next to be left outside the Glade's walls. I couldn't blame them but I knew rationally Alby wouldn't hurt or punish someone without a meaning. The Grievers had left pieces of G behind in the Maze, I refused to take another step out there until all parts were buried or thrown off the cliff. Things still kept going downhill, my emotions were like a snowball rolling down a hill. Gaining more and more material with each roll, becoming extremely heavy. I was tired. I really was, I mean what kind of life was this? I no longer felt joy in this place, I wanted to die.

It was driving me crazy. The thought of going out on my terms.

There was many options on how to go, too.

Hang myself with the thick ivy.

Letting myself bleed out from a slice of Frypan's kitchen knives.

Throwing myself at a Griever.

My final act came to me in a dream though, the idea of throwing myself off the Glade wall seemed like the best way. If I didn't die from the fall, I would surely die from blood loss. I felt a bit like a zombie as I began to climb the wall that day, the snags on the ivy were perfect for climbing. I distantly heard someone calling my name. I ignored them as I took a climbed forward. I looked over the wall, my stomach clenching. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I pushed myself forward.

I

began

to

fall.

The wind rushed upwards, blocking out the Glader's terrified cries.

_I'm sorry Minho, Alby. I just can't take it anymore. Call me vain, selfish even but please don't hate me. We all deserve our own answer to our own problem. Don't cry like a bloody baby._

Those were my last thoughts as I desencded towards the ground.


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey, new update! :) I'm having a really hard time keeping Newt's personality the way it is, but doesn't attempted suicide change a person emotionally? I just feel like I made him a bit too sad, get my point? Next chappy will be filled with fluff and friendship. **

All I remember was a bright and blinding pain, it was so powerful that I couldn't form words. All I could do was lay there and cry, but thankfully darkness clouded my vision and swept me into the void of oblivion. Erasing my fears momentarily. I dreamt of Minho yelling and screaming at me, telling me I was selfish on trying to opt it out. I think I just sat there though and took it, unable to make amends for Minho's pain. But…what about my pain?

I know I woke up a couple of times, I could hear Alby's deep baritone voice and the sound of two people arguing. I could also feel a deep throbbing pain in one my legs, it's pulse was like the ticking of a bomb. One can only hope it wasn't too shucked to hell. I know what they were arguing about. Me. I was the reason. I was still too weak and far too deep into my mind to ask,"Why didn't you leave me there? How could you bring me back into all of this?" So I remained in my almost catatonic state, listening silently as Alby and Minho visited me every day.

The next day, I awoke from a nightmare, crying out Alby's help. Instantly I felt a hand brushing my sweaty bangs off my forehead.

I felt a warm wash cloth scrubbing away my tears as I fell back into the dark pit. The past few days are sluggish, cloudy, and disconnected. But on the fourth day I regain my complete composure. I was propped up on one the Medjack's cots, pillows and blankets piled high around me. Minho was fast asleep in a wooden chair beside me, drool trailing down the side of his cheek. Usually I would've smiled, but I felt nothing but a deep burning hatred.

I tipped the chair backwards and watched with mild amusement as Minho flailed back, hit the floor and groaned. His eyes connected with mine, hurt was all I could see in them.

"Why'd you do it?" I asked, my voice was croaky and intensely dry.

"What?" Minho asked, he sounded a bit dumbfounded. He looked at me with disbelief and rolled his eyes, sighing loudly.

"Why did you save me? Why didn't you leave me to rot or bleed out? Can you not get that I want to die?!"

My words vibrated in the mostly empty room, the next thing I know is Minho lunging for me and that Alby walked in just in time to pull him off. The fight wasn't pretty. It loud and noisy, filled with a strong punches and extravagant curses from Minho. I could distantly feel bloody spilling down the front of my shirt, my lower lip had been split. My fingers wiped through mess, smearing the blood down my chin and neck.

"Calm down, Minho!" Alby had just pulled Minho off me and gave us both a cold glare, it was strong enough to put Hitler to shame.

"Calm down? This stupid ass shank just asked why we didn't all but throw him to Grievers!"

Again, the room was silent. I had never expected Alby to look so lost and sad, I never thought he could actually look weak.

"Is..is this true, Newt?" Alby asked me in terse tone.

I gave a shaky exhale and nodded, tears already dripping down my face, coming to join the blood. Alby picked up Minho's chair, set it straight and sat in it; his arms crossed like an upset mother. Minho stood off to the side, panting and teary eyed himself.

"You're one stupid shank," Alby growled out, his eyes darkened considerably. I frowned, scrunched up my nose in confusion, and looked at him.

"W-What?," I asked.

"How can someone just come into another's life, get them to care, and expect us to be alright from them leaving?" There was no anger in Alby's voice, just sadness and hollow sounding. I swallowed dryly, tried to speak, but was silenced by Alby's red hot stare. He had no intention of letting me speak until he was done with his little speech.

"You're one of the originals, the first of us. In a way, we all connect more deeply because we've been here since the beginning. How many times do you think we ourselves have thought about ending it? To take away our painful, miserable existence?,"

I didn't respond, just shook my head like a scared child. Alby and Minho's thought about dying? Them? They never seemed like the type to. It was incredulously stupid thought. But then again, I bet they were surprised at my attempted suicide.

"We didn't follow through, do you know why?" Alby asked me, he looked directly into my eyes this time, watching me as blubbered on about my pitiful life. I clenched my hands together, waiting for Alby to continue.

"No." I whispered.

"The other Gladers. The Creators keep sending them, some as young at 15 or 14, Newt. They'll need a leader, someone to guide them and show them how to make a most of this life. It's for them. We can't just give up yet. Some day we'll find away out and live like normal people."

I buried my face into my pillow, unable to look at Alby anymore and the feeling of shame and regret coursing through me. Alby patted my shoulder, promised that he would visit tomorrow and left with Minho in tow. I was left alone to my thoughts. My stomach felt like it would explode at any given moment. In a couple of hours I began to feel sleepy, so I laid back against one for the many soft pillow laid out for me and closed my eyes. Hoping that maybe this was all just some big dream that I was stuck in, that'd I wake up tomorrow next Minho and Alby arguing over what they want for breakfast.

—XXX—

I went to asleep that night, thinking of small and scared Gladers. All alone in the empty Glade, had I been that selfish to want out? Half of me screamed yes while the other side of me whispered no. Eventually I decided it wasn't selfish, but incredibly dumb and spur of the moment. Well, not really spur because I've been thinking about it for months… But I knew deep inside that Alby was right, I had some type of duty to the younger Gladers. I couldn't just up and leave them, I know they would all drive Alby insane.

I think it the idea of Alby screaming at younger Gladers that woke me up.

A smile broke out across my face, the first genuine one in a long, long time. I shifted to my side, attempted to get out of bed only to collapse into shrill and window-shattering scream. White hot pain curled from my left thigh all the way down to my calf, this was worse than any muscle spasm or cramp—this was poor agony. The door was slammed open, Minho was standing in its entrance a knife was held in his grip. His eyes roamed around the room before completely stopping on me, he came forward and hefted me up by forearm.

"Mother shucking klunk. What the hell happened?" He asked, I could barely talk as the deep tendrils of pain wrapped itself around me.

"My—my leg, it hurts so much." I cried, gosh—never have I cried this much and in front of another person!

"That would do it… Newt, in all honesty. You shucked up your leg pretty badly. Hey! Don't look at me like that, you can still use it… though Medjacks think you'll have complications."

"Complications?" I shrieked, if this was one of them I might as well cut it off now.

"Yeah. When you fell, your... bone came out," Minho grimaced, the bad memory was without a doubt crossing through his mind.

Well that explained the terrible pain I felt.

"But it hasn't healed properly yet. They said give or take three to six weeks."

I huffed and glanced down the side of my thigh, crude stitching and poorly wrapped bandages—a sign of quick and desperate work. They had really tried to save me.

I could taste bile in the back of my throat, swallowed and gave a look to Minho. A silent apology you could say, I didn't have the courage yet to say thank you. Maybe because half of me didn't deserve to. Minho smiled understandingly and took his usual position in the wooden old chair. He dug around in his pockets for quite sometime before he withdrew a crumpled and stained napkin. He unfolded it, revealing biscuits, sausages and two pairs of oranges.

"Frypan sent these, wanted you to get better." Minho muttered in a hushed tone, he held them out to me, smiling as I took them. I have him a weary stare, knowing he was up to something. I lifted the biscuit close, the last time I are Frypan's biscuit a black hair was in my mouth. Just..gross.

"What're you doing here, Minho?" I asked, the biscuit was placed back down. My apatite gone.

"Huh? I can't visit an old buddy of mine?" He raised his eyebrows and gave a fake look of shock, it made me smile despite me being mad.

"Don't treat me like I'm bloody dumb. I'm smarter than that, you're keeping an eye on me… Aren't you?" I asked, he seemed crestfallen and flopped against the back of his chair. He had deep under eye circles, probably not from sleeping my brain applied. That's your fault I whispered myself.

"Yeah, I'm keeping an eye on you. Alby asked and—"

There it was again, this monster of rage that was just trying to eat away all of my friend's concern.

"I'm not going to break at first sight, Minho! I'm not some bloody girl, you don't need to watch over me! I'm fine now!"

"You call this fine? Twenty four hours ago you were pretty set on dying and being mad at us about it! You seem pretty breakable to me! If you weren't broken, you wouldn't be here!"

Minho's face reddened during his outburst, his eyes closed as if he couldn't bare the sight of me. I sat there and pondered lightly at it, was I really this broken person? Yes, my mind offered. I bowed my head down, now really interested in the blanket that was wrapped around me. Minho made several attempts to talk, but eventually gave up; he settled just for sitting there. I took one of the biscuits from the napkin and held it out to him.

"Eat. You look dead your feet." I told him.

He rolled his eyes but took the biscuit nonetheless, munching away on it like he had eaten in days.

—XXX—

The past few days were uneventful

It was a complete pain being stuck in a bed twenty four seven, my only source of entertainment was Minho's obnoxious but witty sarcasm and Alby's awkward attempts of trying to cheer me up. Alby brought me a flowers—well really a weeds—and turned the brightest shade of red I've ever seen. He was so embarrassed. But really it made me confused, did I look like a shucking girl? Who in the heck wants some flowers as a get well present? Though…they were oddly comforting, the pathetic weeds that is. They're a soft yellow color, the petals probably only half an inch.

"You look like your thinking hard."

I looked up, Alby was in door way holding a small plate of food.

"Maybe I was thinking, unlike you." I retorted, laughing as my stomach rumbled at the sight of food. He grunted, smacked me on the back of the neck lightly. The only affection Alby knows how to show. Feeling starved and incredibly antsy, I dug into my plate of food; I groaned, Frypan really went all out this time.

"Don't laugh at me, shank," I mumbled through a mouthful, eyeing my friend with faux anger at the sound of his laughter,"I'm so hungry I could eat a Griever."

"Gross, that'll make me shucking throw up. Can you imagine? Greiver cargot?" Alby shivered for emphasis.

I swallowed, smiled and held my fork to him; offering him the last bite of my fried potato. He looked at me, with wariness or amusement I don't know and leaned forward; he took a bite, his mouth completely stuff. I flushed slightly, hoping Alby hadn't noticed. Man, things were getting weird around here. But then again we did live here.


	5. Chapter 4

**OMG I'm so so sorry that I left for so long and haven't updated. I've been busy on Instagram and Archive Of Our Own; I've been writing other fics... anywho! Enjoy this!**

Alby and Minho hardly left me during the time of my recovery-almost always on my beck-and-call which received them many insults and strange looks within the Glade. I didn't care what the others thought though; their support meant the world to me.

Weeks passed by quickly for me and before I knew it-I was able to walk again, though, with a slight crooked gait and never-ending limping.

I could not be a runner anymore. The news alone should have made me feel saddened and ashamed, but truly...it felt like a _relief_. I would no longer have to deal with those walls and corridors and the sickening creatures hidden deep inside. I would have to settle for minimal work; like gardening or cleaning. I would probably be avoided and made fun of, I don't care much though.

All that mattered was surviving and trying to make the best of my life within these stone gray walls.

* * *

I had been hunched over, cleaning away the bloodied mess of a mutilated sheep that had met its untimely demise at the hands out our slicers when I felt someone's rough calloused hands send me flying forward, heels over head.

I slid through the mess of blood, guts and soapy water. The laughter that followed my fall was loud, booming and obnoxious-it made my blood boil like nothing else. I made a move to get up, only to be tossed again by the same person; two boys with disgusting oily hair and sharp peaked noses.

"What the bloody hell is your problem?" I yelled, they snickered and moved closer me-taking a step onto my healing calf and girding down hard into the bone.

I screamed loudly, drawing the attention of all Gladers nearby. They swarmed over like a bunch of roaches; some were hungry for a fight, others were too scared to do anything. I lunged forward, startling the two Gladers and knocked one down. My knees pinned them to ground as I started to punch him, it was like a roaring sound was in my ears and I could barely hear Alby telling me to stop-hands gripped my wrists and yanked me away from the now bloody teen.

"Newt! Newt, stop it!" I was shaking just the slightest, from anger and fear. I had lost control so easily. I sucked in a breath, trying to calm myself down. Alby was patting my back as he tried to console me.

"What the hell was _that, _Newt? Why did you go shucking crazy?" Minho had finally arrived looking half amused and worried, leave to him to be excited about a fight. "That slinthead over there thought it'd be funny to freaking _stomp_ on my leg!" I raised a shaking finger over to the group of Gladers that were huddled around my attackers.

"Why'd they do that?" Minho asked his face scrunched up as if in deep thought.

"Because I'm _weak_. I'm just a bloody waste of space and you guys made it that way!"

Hot angry tears made their way down my face, my breathing becoming erratic and my heart pounding. I backed away from them, tendrils of pain shooting up my leg. But ignored it, and started for homestead; there wasn't any possible way I would continue to work today, not when my anger was sky rocketing into space.

"Where are you going?" I could hear both Alby and Minho calling after me and I didn't feel compelled to answer, but simply left.

I bet everyone thought I was crazy and Alby must think the same, no Glader had ever missed a day of work unless they were deathly sick or unable to move. All I was focused on was the wooden rickety door of the homestead; my cold clammy hand grasped the metal knob, turned it and stepped inside the dusty and dark building.

* * *

I think I slept for about five hours. I wasn't really sure, however. I raked my hands through my hair and sighed, trying to calm my nerves and to prepare myself mentally. I slipped into my work boots and descended down the stairs in the homestead, there was a few people milling around and they didn't really look at me or even acknowledged me.

As I left a few heads turned my way, a couple of the gladers even started to huddle together and whisper.

I could see Alby in the corner of the Glade arguing with a couple of people-mostly with a tall and tanned boy named George. As I got closer I could hear what they were arguing about-_me._

"_Look_, you obviously aren't suited to bein' the shuck leader, Alby. You go around letting Newt do whatever! He just beat a younger Glader into a meaty mess."

I stopped, listening.

"You're all way out of line! Newt's just going through something... and I'll have you know those shuck heads attacked Newt first. They thought it would be funny hurting someone that was already injured."

A crowing laugh could be heard.

"Maybe they wouldn't have attacked him if he wasn't such a damn **sissy**, crying and bohooing over this dumb _maze_! We're all here too!"

My eyes widened as Alby lunged forward with powerful fist, it smashed into George's face and a sickening crunch could be heard along with a blood-curdling scream. I ran across short distance, trying to break up the fight. I could hardly do anything as they wrestled with each other on the dirty ground, while I might be taller I was physically less muscled; there was no way I would be able to stop both of them. I did try though.

"Alby! Let him go, stop, c'mon-"I reached out, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders, only to earn an elbow thrust to my hip bone. This wouldn't end easy. I threw my hands up in frustration, hands gripping my hair in repressed anger.

"Man, why is it that _every time_ I leave a fight breaks out," I looked to my left, seeing an extremely sweaty Minho. "Minho, you gotta help me. I swear everyone in here has lost their shuck minds." "That's great and all, but how exactly are we supposed to do that? In case you haven't noticed, me and you, we're kinda little."

"_Little_? Are you bloody kidding me, I'm taller than you and Alby!"

"I didn't mean it that way, shank! But Alby's a lot stronger and George is all but a concrete wall. We'll need more than one person to break them up." As if on cue, several gladers appeared, utterly shocked to see their leader rolling around on the dirty ground punching George into a bloody pulp. "Why the hell isn't anyone breaking this up?" Zart actually broke the stoic silence, he moved forward, calling out to the other Gladers to break Alby and George apart. Within a few minutes they were separated, glaring daggers at each other and covered in sweat, dirty and flecks of blood. I'm pretty sure Alby broke George's nose.

"You're all shucking crazy, what kind of leader breaks his own rule?" George shouted he spat on the ground near Alby's feet, shaking the others off him and leaving.

"Alby... You know there's gotta be a gathering, right?" Winston asked his brown eyes looked remorseful. Alby nodded, not saying a word when he was lead away. I felt helpless once again. Minho looked over at me with concern, he eventually lead me elsewhere; trying to take my mind off the matter. Nothing worked. I thought about it all day.

* * *

Our laws and way within the Glade were fading away.

And I can't help but think.

Was this all my doing?

Later that night a gathering was held.

Everyone had decided to change the meaning and person of the Leader of the Glade. Minho had looked pained and worried throughout the whole thing, I couldn't blame him though. What Alby did was wrong. But he did it for me. We were conflicted and silently awaited the Keepers' punishment for Alby.


End file.
